Alone
by Tiggy the Hopeless Romantic
Summary: But that was life, he supposed, and there was no use in getting upset over every little thing that was different, things he hadn't taken the time to consider before. The Last Five Years fic, post show.


It's funny the things you miss, things you would never even consider before. From the moment you wake up, alone in the bed, no warm body next to you, fumbling for the snooze button. Brushing your teeth in the bathroom, and there's no pink toothbrush next to your blue one in the holder. Reaching up into the medicine cabinet and there's no avalanche of make-up or hair decorations or other beauty supplies he supposed had some sort of use. But that was life, he supposed, and there was no use in getting upset over every little thing that was different, things he hadn't taken the time to consider before.

Mornings were quiet, and calm- she'd always been the one rushing around, unorganized. He started the coffee pot- he knew he would wind up making more than he could drink, but old habits died hard, and what was the point of making a single cup of coffee? He could always warm it up later. He poked around in the refrigerator. Half empty, but he normally ate out, anyway. So whatever. He threw two slices of half stale bread in the toaster, it would do. He took a swig of the coffee, black, only realizing he had run out of milk when it was too late. Well, now it wouldn't be diluted, so it was fine. He didn't _need_ milk. It would've just been nice. She had always been terribly disorganized and was aware of it; she would keep a list of everything they needed to buy at the store on the refrigerator door. But he was plenty organized, and normally wouldn't forget to buy milk. But he had, just this time.

Like it would've been nice not to be alone in the oddly quiet apartment. But Elise had to go upstate and visit her parents and he had a meeting the next day, so he'd stayed at home. In his apartment, that was just his. And not _hers_. But he lived alone now, other than the weekends when Elise stayed with him and wasn't it normal to feel alone when you live alone? He could hear an argument from the floor above him, and flipped on the radio to have some noise that would drown it out.

He could hear the paper boy hit the door with his newspaper, and he was glad for it, giving him something to do. He grabbed the paper before the kid even had a chance to get to the next door, waved awkwardly, and made his way back inside, opening the paper up. He didn't have the stomach this morning for front page news, had never been much for reading about sports or business. So he came to the Arts and Entertainment section, eyes landing on the picture of his ex-wife, beaming, at the opening of a new broadway show. His stomach dropped. He hadn't even known she was _in_ a show. He quickly scanned the article; she was in a supporting role, and was receiving wonderful reviews.

His stomach felt hollow, and he wasn't sure why. It was great that she was doing great. He should congratulate her, in fact. He should call her up, and tell her that he'd heard the good news and wanted to say.... what did he want to say? That he was proud of her just sounded wrong. Saying he knew she would do it would just be patronizing. So he would just give his congratulations. He punched in her phone number- she still used the number they had shared._ Ring, ring, ring... _No answer. Was she asleep? There had probably been a big cast party the night before. Besides, she had a reputation for being late. More than once he'd told her they needed to leave about fifteen minutes earlier than they needed to, to make sure they got there on time.

Her voice on the other end of the line- a recording. _"Hi, it's Catherine Hyatt, sorry I can't come to the phone write now. Leave a message and I'll call you back."_ It was odd to hear her maiden name- at one point she'd been trying to get herself listed as Catherine Wellerstein by Equity, but changing her name there was a near impossible task. But then again, they weren't married anymore, why would she be using his last name? But still it was like he had been deleted from her life, and not just her answering machine. He hung up quickly, having no idea what to say- what would he have said if she had picked up?

He missed her sometimes. But that was life, he supposed, and there was no use in getting upset over every little thing that was different, things he hadn't taken the time to consider before.


End file.
